


Let the Punishment Fit the Crime

by Dangerousnotbroken



Series: The Dick Pic 'Verse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom!Cas, Edging, Engagement Party, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, M/M, Spanking, Sub!Dean, Top!Cas, and punishments, bottom!Dean, just so bad, mechanic!Dean, pornstar!Cas, puns, the worst puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 12:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11184768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerousnotbroken/pseuds/Dangerousnotbroken
Summary: "I want you to keep track of how many puns you make tonight," Cas said, right before they left to go to their very own engagement party. What could possibly go wrong?





	Let the Punishment Fit the Crime

**Author's Note:**

> A big, big thank you to the lovely and incomparable [KreweOfImp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KreweOfImp/pseuds/KreweOfImp) for not only beta-reading this fic for me even though she's visiting family this week, but also for *ahem* giving me inspiration and assisting me with researching this fic. Without her contributions, I would never have been able to make this what it is. I'm not gonna elaborate any further on that but uh. Yeah.
> 
> I've received a couple of requests to write a bachelor party timestamp for this series, as well as a wedding fluff piece, and I'm mulling over ideas for those, but as always, I'm open to suggestions of what else you guys would like to see.
> 
> I apologize for exactly zero of the puns in this fic.

“I mean, you gotta be really careful when you call in a priest to get rid of a demon though,” Dean quips, barely able to keep the smirk off his face. “They’re fuckin’ expensive, and if you can’t pay, well fuck, you might just get repossessed.”

Charlie groans, slapping a hand over her face. “I hate you,” she mutters. “You’re the absolute worst.”

“You’re just mad ‘cause you didn’t think of it first,” Dean teases. The grin on her face tells him he’s absolutely right.

It’s been like this all evening. Dean and Charlie riff off each other when the puns start, and they are both _so terrible_ when it comes to horrid puns, once they get going they just don’t stop. Cas had never met Charlie before tonight so he couldn’t have anticipated this _specifically_ , but this kind of punning is probably exactly what he was banking on when he gave Dean the order to keep track of his puns for the evening. He never actually said Dean _couldn’t_ pun, of course, but that’s pretty much implied.

Cas isn’t in earshot right now, but Dean adds another mark to the tally he’s got going on his phone. Maybe it’s cheating. He doesn’t know. But fuck if he’s going to get slapped with an extra punishment because he fucked up the count. He’s got more important things to do tonight than keep a running tally in his brain of how many puns he’s made. He’s got _puns_ to make, and furthermore, this is his goddamned engagement party, so there’s actual socializing to do.

Originally, he didn’t even want one of these things. It just seemed so bourgeois, throwing a party to announce the party you’re going to have a year down the road. But when Cas’ overbearing producer Gabriel found out they were going to tie the knot, he announced that he’d throw them a sexy as hell party to mark the occasion (presumably as a company tax write-off on account of all the schmoozing he’d do at the event.) So as much as neither Cas nor Dean really wanted one, the only safe answer was to tell Gabriel they were already planning their own, and it was too late to back out of the deposits, so thanks but no thanks.

Dean is much happier to have Charlie help plan his engagement party than have his friends and family drink cocktails while clustered around a life-sized ice sculpture of Cas getting plowed by six of his co-stars, ‘cause you know that’s exactly what Gabriel meant when he said _elaborate decorations._ So instead of hosting it at a mansion that you would never, ever want to look at under a blacklight, they’ve rented out a local restaurant for the night. It’s all rustic wood paneling and reclaimed lighting fixtures, very hipster chic, and Dean’s happy to announce that he doesn’t even really mind the place. He only knows about it because Charlie’s girlfriend Dorothy tends bar here, but it’s a pretty great venue. Dorothy mixes some pretty decent drinks, there’s some little bite sized sausage things he could eat about a thousand of, and most importantly, it’s full of people who are thoroughly excited that Dean and Cas are gonna tie the knot. None of them, of course, are as excited as Dean and Cas themselves. Sam might run a close second, but he’s always been kinda in love with the idea of love, so that’s not a huge surprise.

“You’re the worst,” Charlie reiterates, slugging Dean in the shoulder affectionately. “I need another drink just to keep putting up with you.”

“You’re just saying that because your girlfriend is behind the bar and you wanna go make eyes at her,” Dean retorts, already heading towards the bar.

“Says the guy who’s been eye fucking Cas all evening. Not that I can blame you, of course. He’s pretty dreamy for a dude. But seriously, you guys are gross.”

“We’re _supposed_ to be like this, Charles. This is an en- _gay_ -gement party, not an en-straight-ment party.” Dean rolls his eyes at his own joke. Maybe he’s taking the puns too far, but he just can’t help it!

“You’re lucky I love you,” she informs him.

“I know,“ Dean replies affectionately.

“Ooh! Speaking of Star Wars!” Charlie exclaims, because Charlene Bradbury cannot hear an I-love-you-I-know exchange and not immediately start talking about Star Wars. “Did you hear they actually did a field study to try to reproduce the conditions on Hoth and see whether it would have been plausible to survive the ice planet like they did in Empire? They apparently did a bunch of comparisons with real animals and even came up with a reasonable estimate of what the internal temperature of a tauntaun is!”

“Is that so,” Dean replies cautiously, already cringing because he’s pretty sure he knows exactly where this is going.

“Yeah, it turns out it’s about Luke warm!” She nearly doubles over laughing at her own joke, and Dean groans, but he’s gotta give her credit because that was an excellent set up. He’s gotta remember to tell Cas about that one later. He’ll fucking _hate_ it.

Dean casts his eyes around the room in an attempt to locate his adoring fiancé, and finds him in a conversation with Benny and Victor. Dean’s only met Victor once or twice, but he knows that he and Cas have done some work together since he got back into the business, and he’s kind of a riot. Definitely one of the few guys Cas has made movies with that Dean enjoys hanging out with. He grabs a fresh beer and weaves his way through the room, pausing once or twice to chat briefly with clusters of friends. Dean reaches Cas just as Victor and Benny drift away to join another conversation.

“Those two,” Cas informs him with complete certainty, “are definitely hitting it off.”

“Are you setting our friends up?” Dean teases.

“Hardly.” Cas pulls Dean in for a quick kiss, leaving the taste of something sweet behind on his lips. “I just know chemistry when I see it. I don’t necessarily know if they’re gonna end up dating, but I’d be surprised if somebody doesn’t end up on somebody else’s dick soon. How are you doing, babe?”

“Awesome,” Dean informs him. He doesn’t mention the puns. Cas will ask later, he’s sure of it. “What are you drinking? It doesn’t taste like your usual straight whiskey.”

“Okay first of all there’s nothing straight about me, including my whiskey,” Cas informs him smugly. “And second, it’s a banana martini. Dorothy mixed it for me.”

“Banana eh?” Dean says with a smirk. “Sounds a-peel-ing.”

“Get out,” Cas commands, pointing to the door. “You’re awful.”

“You love it,” Dean reminds him.

“I really do.”

~*~

Dean knows he’s going to get it. He’s thinking about it the entire cab ride back to their apartment. He’s wondering exactly how much trouble he’s gotten himself into and he’s admittedly pleased with himself. Every once in a while he’ll glance over at Cas and catch this wicked little grin on his face, but it fades the second he notices Dean is looking.

Yep. He’s definitely in for it.

So much trouble.

It’s gonna be fucking worth it.

Originally, when Cas told him to keep track of the puns, he thought it might be like the thing with the Q’s from when Cas was first introduced to Sam and Jess. It was with that in mind that he started looking for more opportunities to make terrible puns. But as the night wore on, Dean noticed that Cas never once side-eyed him for a pun. Or at least, no more than he would have in any normal scenario. There were no thinly veiled threats about how much trouble he was making for himself, either, so Dean gradually came to surmise that Cas actually didn’t _want_ him to control the number of puns he was making, just keep track of them.

That in itself should have scared the pants off of him, but it didn’t.

It just made him pun harder.

He knows exactly how many puns he dropped, too, ‘cause pride is definitely Dean’s sin and he’s fuckin’ proud of every single one of them. He maybe shouldn’t be. Some of them were downright criminal.

So color Dean surprised when they make it through the door to their apartment and Cas does not immediately ask how many puns he counted. He makes small talk about the party and how much he likes Dean’s friends. He talks about the food, the dress was Jess wearing, and how long it’s going to be before they get confirmation that Benny and Victor hooked up after the party. Dean thinks if it happens, Benny will probably bring it up next time they go out for beers. Cas wouldn’t be surprised if Victor mentions it sooner.

And just when Dean’s starting to get antsy, on the verge of actually _asking_ what kind of a punishment he’s got coming to him, Cas backs him up against a wall, hands clutching greedily at his hips, and kisses the breath right out of Dean’s lungs.

God, but it’s good when Cas is like this. He’s a take the lead kind of guy most of the time anyway, but there’s a marked difference between _leading_ , like they’re dancing in sync and Cas just happens to be picking the steps, and the bossy, demanding kind of leading he does when it’s obvious right from the get-go that he’s in Dom mode. Dean never would have seen it coming, but he loves the pushiness, the aggressive way Cas just puts his hands all over Dean, taking whatever he wants. He manhandles Dean, pushes and pulls and restrains until Dean is exactly where he wants him, and he could end it all with a single word but Cas is so good at making sure he never does any of the things that would make Dean want to stop.

Cas doesn’t waste any time. He slots a knee between Dean’s thighs to keep him in place, give him something to rut against, and works roughly at the buttons on his shirt until he can push it from Dean’s shoulders. Then there’s lips against Dean’s throat, sucking a purple mark just above his collar bone, and hands on his belt, and in record time, Dean’s a hair’s breadth from naked and Cas is still fully clothed and they’ve barely gotten started. Cas tweaks his nipples in tandem, rough and a little mean and just the way he likes it. Dean almost gets out a question about where this is headed, but then Cas is kissing him again, hot and filthy, and he forgets to ask.

They end up on the bed pretty quick, Cas getting naked somewhere between the hallway and the bedroom. He warms the lube up before pressing the tip of one finger into Dean’s waiting hole, totally ignoring his cock. Dean groans and rocks his hips back down without even thinking about it, but Cas doesn’t breathe a word about it.

He takes way longer than Dean would like working him open, and that’s maybe a punishment all on its own. Dean likes it rough, and he could totally handle Cas’ dick with less prep than he’s getting. Cas knows this. But tonight he seems interested in dragging it out because it doesn’t seem to matter how much he squirms, how pretty he begs. Nothing he does makes any difference.

“I like it when you beg,” Cas informs him, completely unmoved by his pleas. “It’s so fuckin’ sexy.”

“Do you like it enough to fuck me?” Dean taunts.

“Not yet.” Cas adds more lube, a third finger, carefully avoiding Dean’s prostate, and kisses Dean to stop him from asking again. He smacks Dean’s hand away when he tries to reach for his own cock, just for a change of pace, and he laughs against Dean’s mouth when he whines.

Finally, _finally_ , Cas sheathes himself in a condom, flipping Dean over unceremoniously and grabbing him by the hips to put him right where Cas wants him. He’s so exposed like this, ass in the air, and he fucking loves it. Loves it even more when Cas slides in, lets him feel every inch as he sinks his cock into Dean’s ass. Gives him just a moment to adjust to the girth and then starts fucking him, long, slow thrusts that feel so fucking good, Dean can barely stand it.

“Fuck, you sound gorgeous like that,” Cas praises, raking fingernails down his back. “I bet you’re getting close already, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Dean croaks out, ‘cause hell, he can’t even deny it. Won’t be long before he’s coming like this, and he kinda doesn’t want Cas to stop but he’d really rather it not be over yet either. “Real close.”

“Can’t have that,” Cas chides, pulling out and holding Dean steady with a hand on his hip so he can’t try to push himself back on Cas’ cock. Dean whines at the loss of fullness, muttering mutinously when Cas laughs at him. What he gets for his troubles is a firm grip around the base of his cock and Cas leaning over to whisper dangerously in his ear. “Now, how many puns did you make tonight, gorgeous?”

Dean groans. He was not prepared for this, not now.  It’s hard to think straight through the haze of lust but he seems to recall some intent to own his supposed misbehaviour and answer honestly. Something about that seems silly right now though, when Cas has him so thoroughly exposed. Perhaps he should err on the side of caution. You know. Play it safe.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours, baby. What are you thinking? Maybe you’re wondering if I was keeping track as closely as you were, if you can get away with giving me a lower number? Maybe you’re thinking I was too busy meeting all your friends to pay attention to your puns? You could be right. I might have missed some.” He pauses to drop a kiss to Dean’s shoulder. “You could possibly shortchange me and I wouldn’t know the difference. But maybe I was paying attention. Maybe I heard every single joke. Are you sure you want to chance it?”

He gives Dean a moment to consider that, backing away and letting go of Dean’s cock, running gentle hands up and down Dean’s thighs. It’s soothing and grounding, and Dean feels himself crawling away from the edge of orgasm to the point where he’s got control of his faculties again.

“Shh, there you go baby. You’re okay,” Cas croons. “I mean, it’s totally up to you. I can’t promise I heard every single one. But I can tell you that if you give me a lower number than I heard, you’re going to be very, very sorry for it.”

It’s all Dean can do not to flinch. Cas can read him like a book, and some other time that might be kinda unsettling but right now it’s just all manner of unfair. And kinda hot, if he’s being honest. Kinda really hot. He opens his mouth to answer and then pauses, drawing out the silence. He already knows he’s going to give Cas the truth, but there’s no harm in letting Cas think the threat has given him more pause than it actually has.

“Twenty,” Dean says confidently. “I made twenty puns.” Cas’ responding laughter is almost musical in the silence of the room. Dean can’t tell quite what he’s laughing at yet.

“Wow, you were in rare form tonight,” he comments.

“Well, what can I say,” Dean says with a casual shrug. “I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”

“I hadn’t realized I’d issued one.”

“Well maybe you didn’t mean to,” Dean tells him smugly. “But you did.”

Cas laughs again, and it’s not musical. It’s wicked. “In that case,” he says, trailing off. Instead of finishing the sentence, he lets his hand do the talking, letting a flurry of sharp blows rain down on Dean’s ass and thighs. They’re not hard enough to cause any real pain but the surprise makes Dean yelp. The assault is over too fast for Dean to really have caught on in time to count. Even so, he’s almost entirely certain there were exactly twenty spanks delivered.

Dean’s pretty sure he’s not getting off that easy. He’s also glad he didn’t say that out loud, because Cas would most certainly call him out on the unintended pun.

“I don’t think I’ll let you come for a while yet. Not until I’m done playing with you. So I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to tell me when you get close. And every time we stop, I’m going to spank you once for every terrible pun you made.”

“They weren’t terrible!” Dean retorts, grinning even though Cas can’t see his face.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Cas informs him. “Green?” he asks, and Dean croaks out an affirmative reply, and that’s all the warning he gets before Cas stuffs his cock back in Dean’s hole. Thankfully he starts off slow, giving Dean time to adjust before he picks up the pace and starts fucking hard and fast. He’s cruel, but he’s not _that_ cruel. Or at least, he’s not exceedingly cruel in that specific way, ‘cause he’s definitely not going out of his way to make it easy on Dean. The whole time he’s thrusting, hips bouncing off of Dean’s ass, he’s pawing at Dean’s cheeks, spreading them wide so he can get as deep as possible. The small spanking he’s received so far barely registers as a warm up at this point. He’s capable of taking much more, and Cas has proved that to him time and time again, so he’s not in pain, but depending on how long Cas plans on playing around with him for he could certainly get there. Twenty smacks at a time isn’t much. They’ll add up though. Oh hell, they’ll add up.

It takes Dean a little bit longer to edge up on his orgasm this time around. He doesn’t bother trying to think about why that is. He also doesn’t need to be reminded Cas will be _most_ displeased if Dean doesn’t inform him of the impending orgasm in time to back off. Still, Dean’s a brat at heart, so he does hold out until mere heartbeats away from the point of no return, just to see if Cas will call him on it.

“Close,” he groans, low and raw. Cas pulls out instantly, leaving Dean‘s ass feeling bereft and empty to go along with the throbbing in his neglected dick. He doesn’t even try asking permission to touch himself. Everyone involved knows exactly what the answer would be.

“Good boy,” Cas murmurs, sending a shiver up Dean’s spine. He never realized how much he’d enjoy something like that but when Cas praises him, God, it just makes everything so much sweeter.  Cas smooths his hands over Dean’s back, gently dragging over each knob of his spine, giving him a moment to collect himself. Dean doesn’t even get a warning before the smacks start falling again and he cries out in surprise. The soft laughter from behind tells him that’s exactly what Cas was aiming for. “Your ass isn’t even getting pink yet.”

“Sorry,” Dean replies grumpily, knowing full well Cas meant the statement as rhetorical. “I’ll work harder on that.”

“God that pretty mouth is going to get you into trouble one of these days,” Cas informs him, laying the final flurry of blows on Dean’s hips and thighs as he does.

“It didn’t already? I thought that’s what we were doing here, me getting in trouble for running my mouth.”

“Oh sweetheart no. This isn’t a punishment.” Cas sounds almost gleeful. “I never said you _couldn’t_ make any puns, I just wanted you to keep track.”

“So really, you gave me a length of rope and watched me hang myself with it,” Dean points out, a little too smug for someone in the compromised position he currently occupies.

“I suppose so,” Cas replies thoughtfully. “I don’t hear you complaining, do I? I thought not,” he continues, not even giving Dean a chance to reply. Result would have been the same either way. Dean loves the attention, gets off on it, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way Cas plays with him when they’re like this.

“Get on with it then,” Dean taunts. Cas _is_ right though. He’s gonna talk his way into trouble one of these days. He’s just not sure he’ll regret it.

Cas drags it out a bit more this time, fucking Dean with long, slow strokes, letting him feel every thick inch as it fills him up. Dean braces himself solidly on hands and knees, not quite pushing back to meet Cas but enough to make sure he gets every little thrust Cas gives him. He goes deep and stays there, grinding his hips against Dean’s ass just to tease him, then pulls almost all the way out before giving Dean anything else. It’s fucking hot, filthy and startlingly intimate, and Dean doesn’t even think about how long it takes to have him up on edge again but he sure as fuck doesn’t screw around with it this time.

“Cas,” he whines, barely articulating it. “Gonna come.”

“No you’re not,” Cas informs him. His cock is barely out of Dean’s ass this time before he starts spanking again. “I really ought to be spanking you with something other than my bare hand at this point,” he muses almost conversationally. “If I had a paddle I’d be able to get some lovely color by now. Or a hairbrush maybe. That’d be nice.”

“You know damn well neither of us even owns a hairbrush,” Dean argues. “I don’t have enough hair to brush, and your hair looks like you just got fucked regardless of what you do to it.”

“This is true,” Cas agrees. “Doesn’t mean I can’t buy a nice hard plastic brush just to turn your ass red with. I bet you’d love the sting of it.”

Dean mutters mutinously under his breath, but he does not outright disagree.

“Anyway, that’s for another day. I have neither a paddle nor a hairbrush nearby, so I suppose I’ll have to spank you with whatever’s handy.”

Dean bursts out laughing. “Did you just fucking pun at me?”

“I would _never_ ,” Cas cries with false outrage, and gives him another twenty swats for his trouble. Dean resolves to keep his mouth shut on such matters in the future, but even as he’s promising himself this, he knows it won’t last. That’s just not who he is.

Cas slides in again, grinding his hips against Dean’s ass to test how much of an effect the spankings are having. Dean’s groan is as much of an answer as he needs, apparently, because rather than drawing back to fuck into him, Cas grips Dean’s hips and keeps grinding, slow and filthy and deep. It’s fucking torture. His cock is tagging Dean’s prostate, just enough to make it exceedingly difficult for Dean to keep his wits about him. He can’t even believe the sounds that are coming out of his mouth, desperate, needy noises, sounds that Cas loves hearing. Cas doesn’t let up, not for an instant. He laughs wickedly, gripping Dean’s hips tighter, and keeps on grinding until Dean cries out.

“Cas,” Dean pleads, eyes squeezed shut.

“What’s that baby?” Cas replies, his voice smooth and unperturbed. “I can’t quite hear you.”

“I’m gonna,” he whines. “You gotta let me come!”

“Not yet sweetheart,” Cas chides, leaving him empty again. Dean’s limbs are shaking with the strain of holding on, of holding himself up. Cas’ hand collides with his ass one, two, three times, then pauses, caressing the reddened skin with so much gentleness it almost seems out of place. It lulls Dean, soothes him, letting the intensity of his almost-orgasm recede to the point where he thinks he could almost form a sentence. Slowly, the rush fades, and just as Dean’s starting to feel in control again, Cas’ hand starts to fall again, sharp, well-placed slaps that draw a yelp out of Dean’s lungs. He’s still got a few more coming and he knows it, but he doesn’t even have the energy left to anticipate, to flinch. Dean had no idea not coming could be this exhausting.

He’s caught totally off guard when Cas grabs him by the thighs and flips him over, landing with a bounce on his back. Before Dean can even express his confusion, Cas pushes his legs up towards his chest and delivers the rest of the smacks he’s owed with ruthless precision.

“That’s better,” Cas purrs, admiring his handiwork. “Now I can see that beautiful face of yours when you beg me to let you come.”

Dean tries very hard not to pout, but it’s exactly what he does. “I wasn’t begging.”

“Keep telling yourself that, babe.” Cas says with a grin. He’s kneeling between Dean’s thighs, one hand behind Dean’s knee pushing his leg up to expose his ass, and just now Dean feels the tip of a finger circling his slick rim. He groans, desperate for release, but it seems that all Cas wants to give him right now is a tease. “Doesn’t matter if you beg, anyway. You’ll come when I decide you get to come.”

“You’re an ass,” Dean mutters under his breath, not daring to make eye contact with his fiancé in this exact moment.

“Yes,” Cas agrees. “I am. I’m incredibly cruel, and you love it, and that’s why you’re marrying me.”

Dean can’t even disagree. He cracks a smile, a little bit giddy on endorphins and the knowledge that this is the man he’s going to marry. Cas smiles back, cheerful and loving for just a moment before it turns wicked, and the finger teasing at Dean’s rim quickly becomes two fingers plunging deep into his hole, pushing and twisting and teasing until Dean is writhing on the bed.

“See? You like it when I’m cruel,” he laughs. Dean gasps for breath, unprepared as he was for the onslaught of stimulation, and he barely gets a chance to steady his nerves before Cas’ fingers are replaced with his dick. He pushes Dean’s thighs up to his chest and weighs him down into the mattress, fucking into him with short, slow strokes. There was a time when Dean could not be bent like this, a time when all the pleasure this position brought would not outweigh the discomfort of bending into positions his body wasn’t prepared for. Months and months of marathon sex with a man who used to be his favourite porn star and is now just his favourite person have made Dean a bit more flexible though, both in the shapes his body will allow itself to be folded into and in the things he’s willing to admit he’s into. He never would have let anyone spank him like this before Cas. He never would have entertained the idea of being pushed to the edge of orgasm only to have it stolen away, over and over, until he’s finally greeted with mercy. Before Cas, he’d never have admitted to liking it, either, and now he couldn’t deny it.

“ _Fuck,”_ Dean groans. He’s clutching Cas’ shoulders, fingertips digging into the muscle, loving every second of it. Cas leans down to nip at Dean’s throat. The change in position puts just a bit of friction on Dean’s cock, but it’s enough to have him crying out. “Fuck Cas, I’m close,” he whines. “Not gonna last.”

“Hmm, I thought not,” Cas hums, his voice full of amusement. He slows his thrusts down, backing off until he’s barely moving, giving Dean a bit of reprieve but not really letting him come back from the edge. Dean is squirming beneath him, not sure if he needs more or less. “What do you think, should I let you come? Or maybe I should edge you some more, make you real desperate before I give you what you want.”

“ _Please.”_ It’s the only thing Dean can think to offer in his defense. Cas said begging wouldn’t work, but it’s all he’s got. “Wanna come, babe. Want it so bad. Please, you gotta let me come!” Cas ponders it, making an exaggerated show of cocking his head to the side while he considers Dean’s request. He goes on long enough that Dean seriously considers just grabbing his own dick and finishing things for himself, just to get some kind of relief, but he knows it’ll be a pale shade of pleasure beside what Cas will give him if he waits. It’s a close thing though. He almost goes for it. Just before his resolve falters, just before Dean gives in and earns himself a punishment that will probably be far less fun than the spankings, Cas relents.

“Very well,” Cas tells him. “I’ll let you come. But only because I don’t want you to be too sore to sit down tomorrow.” He leans in real close, shoving his dick deep into Dean’s ass, and whispers in his ear. “I still have plans for this ass,” he says, low and dark and rough, and that’s almost enough to make Dean come right then and there. He groans, and Cas starts fucking him again. Now that he has permission to come, he goes to reach for his cock, but Cas sees it happening and grabs his hand, pinning his wrist to the mattress beside his head. Dean’s other hand soon follows, and then Cas has him trapped and totally at his mercy. It doesn’t matter though, he’s so hard, so amped up, he doesn’t need to touch his cock to come. Just the feeling of Cas’ dick splitting him open, the way he looks perched over Dean with that wild look in his eyes, that’s gonna be enough. “Come on baby,” Cas urges him on. “Come for me.”

He fucking loves it when Cas pins him down like this. The knowledge that Cas has pinned and restrained, it’s just so fucking thrilling. Add that to the fact that he’s been edged for god only knows how long, and it’s no surprise he comes pretty damn fast. One minute he’s moaning out Cas’ name, writhing on the bed because it’s the only motion afforded to him, and the next he’s nearly blacking out, coming all over himself as Cas calls him a good boy, croons about how perfect Dean is, how beautiful, how fucking sexy he is.  Dean drinks it all in, lets Cas praise him, gasping for breath as the orgasm rolls over him in waves. Dimly, he’s aware of Cas coming too, something like a roar erupting from his lips as he throws his head back. He’s just as vague on the minutes that follow, too. Cas gets up to discard the condom, comes back to flop onto the bed beside Dean, wipes the come from his belly, runs fingers through his hair. Dean leans into the touch. He reaches out to pull Cas closer, leans in to pepper his face with kisses.

“Your puns are still terrible, by the way,” Cas murmurs, his voice full of affection.

“I hate you,” Dean replies, meaning the exact opposite. Yup. This is the man he’s going to marry. How lucky can a guy get?


End file.
